Scent of Summer
by handa seishuu
Summary: "It was a pretty thing, with its large brown face and halo of yellow-orange petals, and its long stalk still a vibrant green. The cut at the end of the plant was fresh; smooth and even under his fingertips." - Hiroshi sweats it out over a gift from Handa - who in turn, sweats it out over something he wants to tell Hiroshi.


There wasn't a single vase in their house that was tall enough to hold the sunflower resting on his windowsill, and Hiroshi Kido was beginning to panic.

It was a pretty thing, with its large brown face and halo of yellow-orange petals, and its long stalk still a vibrant green. The cut at the end of the plant was fresh; smooth and even under his fingertips. Hiroshi rummaged through the kitchen once more, stopping briefly to frown at the sunflower bouquet standing on the kitchen counter. So that's where _that_ vase was. He couldn't do much about it if his mother had beaten him to it.

The sunflowers had come from Handa - the handsome city slicker who couldn't cook for himself - as a thank-you for the meals his mother lovingly prepared for him. Hiroshi remembered vaguely that the calligraphist's back entrance was indeed surrounded by them. Had he been taking care of them himself, then? Handa handed him the bouquet that morning as they met halfway on the long stretch of road to the older man's home, and then, as an afterthought, plucked a single flower from the neatly tied bunch and placed it in Hiroshi's hand.

"As a thank you for bringing me my meals," he had said with a sheepish smile.

Upon receiving the sunflowers, Hiroshi's mother gushed loudly, carefully holing them to her chest like they were something precious. Hiroshi's father looked quietly pleased and squeezed his son's shoulder with a warm hand. "I didn't peg Handa to be the type to do such sentimental things."

"Me neither," Hiroshi held the sunflower under his nose and breathed the smell of summer in. He wondered if Handa had done the same; wondered if he took the time to look at each flower individually and pick out what he thought were the most beautiful. His father eyed the flower then watched his son's face. He made no comment but he looked to his wife and they smiled.

"Tsk!"  
Hiroshi slipped his shoes on and slid the front door open with a little more force than he intended. He winced, hoped his mother wouldn't make a violent entrance to berate her son. "I'm going out!"

No response. Busy today, then. Well, that would be fine. All he wanted to do was head over to the local store and grab a vase that could hold the gift from Handa. Hiroshi stopped his movements, embarrassed. A gift. From Handa. He had gotten a flower from another man and he hadn't questioned it one bit. Still, he couldn't deny the gesture was nice and he wouldn't be surprised if the guy didn't have any real treasured possessions other than his tools of trade.

Hiroshi snorted. The guy was a workaholic who often found himself passing out at importune times and needing to be babied every other day. Of course he wouldn't have anything cooler to give as a gift.

He shook the blonde strands from his face and stepped into the heavy heat, shielding his eyes from the sunlight of the day. It was a hot day, as it had been lately, and not out of the ordinary. But it didn't mean Hiroshi appreciated the slick sweat that was already beginning to collect on his brow and in the dip of his collarbone. _The things I do_, he thought, _for that man_. It hardly occurred to him that he did little other than bring an already cooked meal to the calligraphist at night and spent the other times probably disturbing his peace by lounging idly on his porch.

The sound of cicadas were harsh in his ears; familiar, but today, they were particularly grating. He just wanted to get the convenience store as soon as he could, get a vase, get home and be done with it. Hiroshi patted his pockets, searching for his wallet or at least some loose change, mildly concerned that he hadn't thought to check _before_ he left. His long fingers (rough, with calloused pads, and beginning to dampen with sweat) close around a few notes. Money from chores, his parents had told him. He hadn't actually done them, but he suspected they just wanted to go outside and make some friends. Preferably with a certain black-haired man who had only recently moved in.

By the time Hiroshi got to the convenience store, he had already run into the three different children (Naru being the enthusiastic first, and Hina the distraught last), helped one of the more elderly ladies along the road with her groceries, and had a brief chat with Tama about an assignment he had done when he was her age. Unsurprisingly, the store was almost empty save for a few dawdling customers that he easily slipped past, only bowing his head once in a polite greeting.

_ A vase, a vase, a vase - Ah!  
_ Back wall, middle shelf. He smiled, relieved.  
Well, that was easy.

"Oh, Hiroshi?"


End file.
